


Before They Learn To Swim

by Threnna



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threnna/pseuds/Threnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred F. Jones is a navy captain, capturing law disobedient individuals at the governments bidding. One day, this brings him across a very special belonging to one such villain. A merman. Which he is to bring across the ocean without any misfortune.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the pub keeper’s most prized possession. And rightly so. Many were the eyes that gazed upon it every day in amazement and curiosity. Safely secured in its transparent container it was an unequalled artefact.

“You have to take them before they learn to swim, that’s the secret Captain.” The pub keeper grinned at the man at the opposite side of the counter. The man in question gave but a subtle nod in return, eyes never leaving the stage. “I got him when he was barely a new born.”

This granted the pub keeper the other’s full attention. The man turned slowly toward him, eyebrows lifted slightly in level-headed surprise. “Do you not fear their kind’s wrath?” he asked. The keeper laughed.

“That’s why my pub is on land and not on a boat,” he winked. “I have no need to journey anywhere that would require a boat, so I feel quite safe.”

Both the men returned to staring up at the stage. Then the man –the Captain- spoke up again.

“I’d like to buy it.”

The keeper jerked a little. But then he laughed again –though if possibly, in a more polite manner than before. “I’m afraid he is not for sale. He is an important part of my economy, after all.”

The Captain looked him briefly up and down, returned his gaze shortly to the container on stage, before nodding. “Of course.” He said. Then he paid for his drink and left the crowded pub, the few chosen individuals of his crew that had stayed subtly hidden in the room following suit and unnoticeably.

They walked casually a few streets down until they reached the small town’s harbour, where they boarded one of the ships docked there. Once inside and below deck, the captain shrugged off the coat and hat which had served as a perfect disguise these past three weeks, before turning to his assembling crew.

“We have our man,” he grinned.

Back in the pub, the pub keeper smiled to himself at the attention his artefact was granting him, as that marked the fourth person to ask to buy it just this day. And to him, the evening and night continued on as it always did. How sad that he did not know what was to happen seven hours after the Captain had left through his door.

For, the number of hours in question later, when the last, slow guest had finally left the pub’s doorstep and the keeper himself had locked up for the night, he was not aware of the mob standing silently outside his backdoor as he finished the last of his tidying.

He knew nothing, before there was a firm but relaxed knock on the door at the back of his small storeroom behind the counter area. He walked over to it, opened it, feeling as peaceful as a man could at the end of a good day’s work. That peace however, was shred to pieces as several naval uniforms and a brightly smiling face met him.

“Can I help you?” he asked confused.

“Yes, I believe you can.” The first in the crowd of navy personnel stepped in through the door, still smiling. And to his utmost confusion, and slow horror as he gradually pieced the puzzle together, the pub keeper recognised the face of the assumed Pirate captain who had been such a generous guest at his house the past few weeks. The man looked around a little, as if it was his first time there, probably just an act he had learned at whatever navy school he had attended. Then he turned to the pub keeper again.

“Pardon the late intrusion, but my name is Captain Alfred F. Jones, of the British Empire navy, and you are Daniel Smith, a heavy smuggler our government wants to put behind bars and make repay all the money you have swindled us for.” It was not spoken as a question. And all the while he was smiling, politely with an ever so slight hint of a grin. But, one had to keep professional when executing these things. And Alfred Jones had not made it all the way to the rank of captain to behave like an idiot when on a mission.

Meanwhile, the poor pub keeper’s face had just grown whiter and whiter. By the end of Alfred’s short speech, he even tried his luck on a futile escape. He got one and a half step backwards before Alfred’s men had him tied up and locked securely in irons.

“Alright, you all remember the government’s orders; search the premises and anything suspicious looking you can find, we will be taking with us.” The crew scattered like well trained dogs, two remaining by the pub keeper to guard him. Alfred joined his men and started a more thorough touring of the house than he had had the pleasure of doing before. Sure, they had managed a great deal of scouting and figuring-out through those past three weeks, but one could only do and see so much when pretending to be an unimportant, and as un-sensational guests as possible.

They were just wrapping up and getting ready to leave as Alfred threw a last glance around, halting as he came to look upon the cylinder glass tank reaching from the floor and almost all the way to the ceiling on the low stage of the pub. The extra iron bars had been pulled down for the night, making escape positively impossible. The artefact inside had kept silent, barely moving, the entire time they had roamed the house. And as Alfred stared, it stared back, and he found that even after three weeks this creature never ceased to confuse and oddly entrance him. Its emerald green eyes shone dimly in the sparse light. By the door the crew stood waiting. Alfred remained silent for a few moments.

“We’re bringing it with us,” he then said finally. The confusion hitting his crew was as visible as a tidal wave.

“Excuse me, sir,” the quartermaster cleared his voice carefully. “Do you mean the merman?”

Alfred smiled. “Yes, I mean the merman. The orders were to bring back anything out of the ordinary, and if this isn’t, then I don’t know what is.” The crew exchanged a few glances. Worried glances.

“Sir,” the quartermaster said again. “You do realise that merpeople are capable of special things?”

“I do.” Alfred replied patiently. The quartermaster licked his lips, glancing at his mates.

“Merpeople are not known to regard humans lightly. And this merman in particular has been kidnapped by one. I must admit I would worry for our safety if we were to have it on board.” The crew looked at each other again. Their captain was not unreasonable, they knew that. If there was something they did not like or did not feel safe about, he was very generous in letting them have their way. But he could also be rather stubborn at times.

“We are the government’s men, the navy, what would we be if merely the fear of what could happen kept us from completing a mission?”

The eyes of the crew clearly stated they did not see the “merely” of this whole situation. Alfred snickered a little, but his smile softened.

“I promise nothing will happen to us. If anything, we will just return the merman to the sea if they get angry. I will make sure nothing happens to any of you, so there is no need to worry.” And though the crew wasn’t really convinced there was anything even their brave, big-hearted captain could do against a sea of seething angry merfolk, they found they had no real protest to come up with and a few of them began heading toward the glass tank.

They stopped a few metres from it, looking a moment in awe at the creature. It had its tail bent up lazily in front of it, leaning half against the bottom and half against “back” wall of the cylinder, looking at them from across the translucent fin. It probably took them several minutes to dare their way close to the glass, the creature not moving at all. Had it not been for the open eyes clearly watching them –and the fact that it had not floated to the surface, Alfred thought in absent humour–, it could just as well have been dead.

They found the bolts and screws keeping the tank fastened to the floor, and soon had them loosened.

“You don’t have a cart or something of the like, do you?” Alfred turned to the pub keeper, who had been standing silently next to them, and now jerked to life at the question. Numbly, he just nodded, probably too out of it to really think much.

“Out the back,” he said. Alfred nodded to two men, who went outside and soon had the double front doors open and the cart ready by the stage.

“Carefully,” Alfred announced, stepping onto the stage to help his men. It took all of them -except for one to stand guard the pub keeper, just in case- to tip it over as gently as they could and get it onto the cart in a lying fashion. It took them quite a while too, as well as their fair share of grunting and groaning, to get the whole job done –and to get it done as silently as possible at that. The hour was late, and they would rather not have the entire neighbourhood wake up to the smashing of a glass tank and a merman sprawled on the local pub floor.

“All right, good work everyone,” Alfred said after they had secured the tank to the best of their ability on the spot. Then they made their way out of the pub, leaving behind disorientated chairs and unlocked front doors. “My apologies this all had to happen so late,” Alfred walked next to the pub keeper, his quartermaster leading the party. “But I didn’t want to evoke more attention that needed, so this was really the best time.”

They made it through the streets somewhat unseen –“somewhat”, because they were actually seen. Both by late drinkers and people happening to throw a glance out their bedroom windows. But it was not like anyone dared intervene with any of the navy’s men, so they reached the ship without any hindrances, got the –former- pub keeper under deck and in one of the three cells they had, before they got the glass tank on board as well.

“Secure it to the railing next to the water barrels there. We can find a better location for it later,” Alfred instructed, the tank, still lying down, was securely tightened to the sturdy railing before the crew members in charge of this task backed away a little quicker than a calm man would.

Alfred said nothing of it however; it was not like the merman didn’t affect him as well. He gave the helmsman their heading, the ship gliding away from the harbour in the night.

And all the while, he kept an eye with the creature in the glass tank. It had its green eyes locked at the harbour, never looking away even as it got smaller and smaller in the distance, an expression on its face that Alfred couldn’t read.

* * *

  
 a/n:

Audio version of this chapter: [www.youtube.com/watch?v=ry8Z0CaVqrk](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ry8Z0CaVqrk) I hope you will enjoy it, and if not, then at least you got to hear what my voice sounds like. xD (as if anyone’s interested in that)

***

(The old, original an):  
I have been having this story in my head for weeks, and finally decided it was time to get the first chapter on paper. -Or on a word document, at least-. Scr*w school not really giving me any spare time to do these things.  
Also, this is unbetaed, so if there's anyone out there who wouldn't mind betaing, I'd be so happy. I have asked so many different betas now that I've lost count. And either they don't answer or they disappear on me. ...So I've sort of given up. But please. I'd be so happy.  
And a small note: I made Alfred a navy captain of the British Empire, as I imagine this to happen at the time of Port Royal. And that was around the 1600s (before it was destroyed by an earth quake or something in 1690-something), and since we all know the American revolution was in 1776, I figured he'd be in the British Empire navy. –Mostly because I have no clue if America had their own navy before they became independent. I know, I fail. X) Though if I have done wrong in deciding this, feel free to correct me.  
Please tell me what you think. And please ignore how ridiculously long this a/n is. -_-

(This was originally posted on fanfiction.net)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred F. Jones is a navy captain, capturing law disobedient individuals at the governments bidding. One day, this brings him across a very special belonging to one such villain. A merman. Which he is to bring across the ocean without any misfortune.

They had been at sea for a day, and Alfred and the rest of the crew were faced with one very crucial problem. Of course they would preferably not evoke any misgivings or bad feelings with the merfolk somewhere below the dark blue, and though they did not know exactly how to manage this, they did understand that making sure the merman survived would probably be a good step in the right direction. And though none of them really knew any more about merpeople than what stories could offer them, they could only conclude that merpeople, just like humans, got hungry.

 

However, here came the conundrum: the lid through which the former pub keeper had stuffed food and changed the water was at the top of the cylinder. A cylinder which at the moment was lying on its side, which again meant that, were they to open it, the merman and all the water would spill out. And that would really work against its purpose.

 

So as the helmsman and Captain Alfred took turns on the wheel, and they all otherwise just went on with their everyday tasks, they all talked about this. To push the cylinder in an up-right position would be dangerous as it could then easily tip over and break against the deck. Could they take the chance of only opening the lid slightly, not caring if a little water escaped? But would not the merman try to escape then? Or perhaps they could bust a small hole in the glass, through which they could stuff food. But glass was fragile, and chances were that if they did so, it would crack further than just the intended hole.

 

As they went below deck for dinner, Alfred finally said, "We have to get a new, custom-made tank." Every head present turned toward him, falling silent.

 

Alfred rubbed his forehead. "We will make port in the closest harbour and order a tank of the glass master there. And until then…" he frowned, studying his plate. The closest port was a couple of days away, and even then they would have to wait for the tank to be made. He didn't know how long a merman could go without food, but he doubted it could go that long.

"Until then we will have to make a small hole –it’s risky, I know," he hurriedly added as some of his crew looked ready to protest. "But we can't risk it dying on us either."

 

A murmur went through the crowd of men, but no one said anything aloud. Alfred lifted his head to find the ship's three carpenters with his eyes. When he did, one of them cleared his voice -if a little uncomfortable and clearly doubting, but said nonetheless: "If we don't get caught by bad weather, the glass tube should be able to withstand a small hole for a few days. It will weaken the glass considerably, but with good weather…" he trailed off in thought, though it was not necessary for him to continue. Alfred nodded.

 

"However," one of the two other carpenters spoke up. "I would like to use a proper glass cutter for this, and not just smash the tank open." Alfred nodded again. "Which we don't have," the carpenter finished.

 

None of them knew exactly how safe what they were doing was – or maybe rather how _un_ safe. Merfolk weren't exactly captured every day; most had not even seen one, much less tried to transport one. And as he looked out across his crew, finishing his dinner, Alfred knew they would all prefer to just chuck the merman overboard and rid themselves of any danger that having it on-board brought upon the ship. But he decided not to say anything about it. When the crew wanted to bring up this issue, they would – yet he could not help but want to make it back to the colonies with their special cargo.

 

He rose from his seat and handed his plate and cup to the cook. But, he thought as he headed for the stairs to lead him back up on deck, he would stay true to what he had said. His crew would not be harmed if the merfolks’ attention indeed was brought to their ship. That was his task as captain, after all.

 

Alfred returned to the helm, allowing the helmsman and the remaining crew members on deck to get some food as well. The half of the crew downstairs had returned with him, and was now filling the deck. The wide circle invisibly drawn around the glass cylinder, though, was obvious as he stood there watching them, and he could not blame them. They visually and physically avoided the tank and the creature inside it altogether to the best of their ability, even though their conversational subject hardly left it for more than a few minutes at a time. He himself, however, was rarely able to take his eyes off the merman. Its sea green tail glittered in the sunlight, softened by the water surrounding it. And always was its gaze turned toward the ocean, that same unreadable expression on its face whenever he looked at it. Hopefully it was not contacting other merpeople with some strange sort of power.

 

Hopefully.

 

* * *

 

Alfred left the helm two hours later to retreat to his cabin, documenting that day in the captain’s log, afterwards going through a few maps and sea routes with the navigator. If the winds were with them, they would reach Plymouth the day after tomorrow. Alfred nodded, his navigator tracing a finger along the English coast. He stared at the map thoughtfully, chin in hand, discussing lightly with his navigator about where and how and what would be smartest. Outside the light was slowly dwindling away, the sky starting to take on a reddish hue.

 

The navigator left an hour later to get some sleep as he was to stay watch later that night, and Alfred followed him out on deck. Pulling in a deep breath, the fresh winds and salty scent of the ocean filled his lungs. The amount of people on deck had lessened, as those who were not on the first guard duty or guard at all, had started to file off to bed. Alfred took a small round about the ship, speaking shortly to some, laughing with some, and bidding others a good night. By the time he returned to the deck, only a few men remained, scarcely spread and minding their posts in peaceful silence. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the glass cylinder, only half see-through in the dimming light. Alfred tightened a few ropes and checked a lantern for oil. All the while he kept glancing over at the glass tank.

 

He went on, puzzling with small, simple tasks here and there across the deck, all the while slowly and gradually closing in toward that one spot. But the creature didn't move. It lay silently staring out into the ocean. Alfred couldn't even see its face from where he stood – even if he stretched his neck or leaned to the right, he could not get a glimpse of it.

 

By the time he noticed what he was doing, he had been standing still for a good while; long enough for the sun to completely dip below the horizon and the oil lanterns to be the only thing left lighting up their surroundings.

 

Frowning and pulling in a deep breath half against his own will, he squared his shoulders and walked determined toward the glass. His shoes made no sound against the boards and the merman made no move whatsoever. In the end he was standing right in front of the glass, and as he gazed down he could spot the green eyes through sandy blond locks floating silently about the creature’s head. There was still no reaction.

 

Then he did something others would have declared him reckless for. He abruptly crouched down, giving the glass four firm raps with his knuckles.

 

The reaction was – not immediate. As a matter of fact, there was none at all. Alfred stared intently through the transparent surface. Not even a twitch of the tail to recognise his presence. He had half expected to be staring death in the eye, only now contemplating that perhaps that thought had been a little melodramatic.

 

But as he lifted his hand to give the glass another set of taps, a little harder this time, the creature turned.

 

Leisurely and slowly, it rolled over elegantly in the water with seemingly no effort, settling against the bottom once again when fully turned toward him. Green orbs stared at him. Alfred stared back. For several everlasting seconds he was at a loss of words. Then:

 

"Are you hungry?"

 

Ah, yes, ask it a reasonable question. Alfred could have kicked himself. Here he had a magical, rare creature right before him and _that_ was the first thing he said to it. Chances were it couldn't even hear him through the glass.

 

And if it did hear him, what were the chances it understood English?

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred F. Jones is a navy captain, capturing law disobedient individuals at the governments bidding. One day, this brings him across a very special belonging to one such villain. A merman. Which he is to bring across the ocean without any misfortune.

Alfred’s head hit the pillow. It was still dark out, the rear end lanterns of the ship the only source of light outside his grand, arced cabin windows. He stared through his fingers at the dark boards making up the ceiling above his head, while silent billows rocked him and his ship in soft throws.

 

It had looked at him. The creature had looked at him, and it was as though its eyes were seared into Alfred’s mind. Those deep, green eyes.

 

Alfred pinched his eyes shut, curtly shaking his head.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

Alfred was not entirely sure of exactly what he had expected to happen, actually. A vocal response? An abrupt movement -or sign language perhaps. But he told himself with a mental kick that he should have expected what he got, which was nothing.

 

“We will reach the port of Plymouth in a couple of days,” he carefully pressed on, eyes trained on the slightest of changes with the creature. But still it showed no sign of comprehending, or at all hearing, his words. “In two days, the day after tomorrow,” he then supplemented, in case the merman had not understood.

 

Silence enveloped the two. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alfred wondered if none of his guarding crew had noticed him and what he was doing by now. However, he found he could not make himself turn around to look; his eyes wouldn’t –or perhaps, _couldn’t_ \- tear away from the being in front of him.

 

The only sounds to breach the night air was the murmur of a nearly still ocean beneath the hull, and the dull ripple of the water inside the tank lapping on glass walls in time with the ship’s gentle movements.

 

“You think you can hold on until then?”

 

Alfred twitched, lightly startled by the words. That was, until he realise they had been his own. Puzzled he pulled in a deep breath. Cool night air rushed down his throat and filled his lungs, clearing his brain and got rid of a sluggish drowsiness he had not noticed was weighing down his body.

 

“It’s a grand port. We will be able to get a better,” and he gave the container a quick once-over with his eyes. “Confinement,” he then said.

 

He reacted several seconds after it happened; his brain using oddly long to register the hand suddenly touching the glass. Alfred jerked his head backwards, putting some slight distance between himself and the tank, heart skipping a beat. The pale hand pressed flat against the translucent wall, the creature shifting ever so slightly so that it could lean forwards.

 

Alfred didn’t notice it himself, but as the creature slowly came closer, looking at him, he also leaned closer to the glass. He barely even blinked. They were mere centimetres apart now, the glass between them, Alfred’s shallow breaths briefly fogging it up with every short exhale. The creature titled its head, still looking –no, _examining_ him, Alfred absently realised- with big, sea green eyes that never needed to blink in the salty sea water surrounding it.

 

Then the creature suddenly slumped back, lay against the curved bottom of the glass tank, face turning back toward the seemingly endless sea.

 

It took several minutes before Alfred rose. But when he finally did, he slowly made his way to his cabin, on slightly wobblier legs than he would later admit to himself.

 

Once inside the four walls of his chamber, he leaned against the double doors to close them, still leaning against them when they had, and gazed at the arced windows at the opposite end of the room. And for several minutes again, he did not notice his thoughts drifting away and leaving him in a heavy silence. He had to jerk himself back to reality. Quickly finishing up for the night, he resigned to his bed, staring up at the broad board planks, wondering where he should go from here. Needless to say, sleep took a long time to conquer the navy captain, and when it finally did, he did not notice crossing its thin borders.

 

He dreamt.

 

He was out on the deck, feet bare, feeling the unevenness of the wood beneath him. It shifted gently under his feet, but it was a familiar movement, one that eased him and made him feel at home. Then he started walking. It was completely silent, no billows, no wind, no nothing, apart from a glass cylinder at the end of his path. Inside it was a face, with deep, big eyes, that watched as he came closer. Watched as he did not stop, but in one motion smashed his hand through the transparent surface. And as blood trickled from his forearm and hand to blend with water gushing out from the hole and across his feet, the face smiled. The eyes danced, and they lay out before him, deep and vast as the ocean itself. He lost his footing, overbalanced, and fell into the salty, dark green water.

 

* * *

 

_“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”_

 

Alfred was awakened by a shrill scream splintering his ears, which had yet to end when he jerked into an upright position in his bed. It was dark, and he could barely see a hand before him. But that did not stop him from throwing away the covers of his bedding and storming blindly to the doors. Somewhere in the back of his mind he would have normally noticed the rear end lanterns having gone out. But not now.

 

He slammed his doors open, seeing other members of his crew file onto the deck, confused and in disarray, but all searching for whichever comrade the scream had belonged to.

 

Alfred’s eyes roamed the deck, heart in his mouth as he too ran out into the cold, night air. He spun around, several times, calling out to all of his crew, but he could not see wh-

 

There. His heart just as well stopped cold in his chest. By the railing, glittering sickeningly in the light of a half moon, shards of glass littered the deck floor and a wide hole gaped at them from the glass cylinder. However, what made the crew stop and freeze in a heartbeat was the man half pulled in through the hole, the arms that clung to him and the red that made such elegant yet nauseating swirls in the water.

 

A horrid moment passed, breaths caught in the back of throats as no one moved.

 

“ _Let him go!”_ Alfred roared, and though the rest of his crew stood as glued to their spot out of fright they would threaten the merman to do something drastic, Alfred strode forwards with thundering steps.

 

-But he did not get far. Two steps, his bare feet managed to make, then he stopped dead in his tracks. For, from across the seemingly lifeless body the creature looked at him and _smiled_. And tasting iron in his mouth, Alfred looked down to his right to discover a mass of fresh cuts running down his right forearm and hand. His entire body went cold.

 

Then a voice rung through the air. But it was not Alfred’s and it did not need to roar to be heard. Instead, it seemed to fill the air effortlessly.

 

“Thank you captain, for the most generous offer, I was rather hungry.” 

 

Alfred felt sick to his stomach. His surroundings appeared to swirl unsteadily before his eyes, so he had to physically shake his head to clear his vision. He had no time to waste dwelling on that, not right now. He forced his feet to lustre and ran across the deck until he stood right in front of the container; gun pointed right at the creatures head.

 

“Release him,” Alfred ordered, voice deep. The creature said nothing, just leered up at him as it let its teeth sink into the arm of its prey. A weak moan came from the man, sending a short rush of relief through Alfred. The man was still alive, only unconscious –for now.

 

“Now,” he growled and cocked the gun, a small click sounding that would normally make any man flinch slightly and hesitate. The creature did neither.

 

For a long moment that could have only lasted a few seconds, but felt a lot longer, they just stared at each other. The amount of red tainting the water grew and when the creature made a small movement of pulling the man further in, Alfred snapped. He lunged out, took a hold of the man with one hand, the other shooting into the water and grabbing a hold of the creatures jaw.

 

He yelled an order, three men rushing up to grab the unconscious man. Alfred now had his other hand free as well, grabbing one of the creature’s arms before pressing the thumb and index finger of his first hand roughly into the corners of the creatures mouth, forcing its mouth to open and the teeth loose from its victim’s arm.

 

“ _Now_ ,” Alfred barked, the three men hoisting the fourth out of the hole with the utmost care they could afford at the moment. The very second the man was safe Alfred gave a hard shove and let go of the creature. “ _Seal this thing off! Use any means necessary, I will not see any more of you fall prey to this beast._ ” All of the crew began to move at once. “ _You three, get that man to the physics quarters._ ” The three men carrying the bleeding man between them disappeared below deck, another man –the ship’s physics, Gervase- following suit. “ _The rest of you, all hands to stations, we sail through the rest of the night!”_ A loud and many-voiced “ _yes sir!”_ sounded across the deck and Alfred spun around, heading in a fierce tempo toward his cabin. _“Quartermaster, navigator, my quarters, now.”_  

 

The door to the Captain’s cabin slammed shut, and despite the late hour and the black sky, the ship seared with life. They would all be tired in the morning, Alfred knew that. They had all only gotten a few hours’ sleep, and regardless of what happened, to sail at full speed during the night was not a wise thing to do. This whole ordeal in itself would put a great strain on their energy. But he doubted any of his men would be able to go back to sleep now anyway. They would just have to sort it out with the sleeping when morning came.

 

Alfred, the navigator and the quartermaster spent the rest of the night looking at maps trying to decide the fastest way to get to Plymouth. They discussed the crew’s well-being, and how they would divide sleeping and working the upcoming day. But Alfred did not tell them of the dream he had had or his damaged arm and hand, even though the two other showed modest interest for it. _Modest_ because they both sensed their captain’s reluctance toward the matter, and they already had enough to deal with, should they not also start forcing him to speak of things he did not wish. 

 

When the rays of sun finally hit the vessel, and the ball of light and warmth climbed higher up on the sky, the lack of sleep was evident on every man of his crew’s face. But they had the winds on their side, and none seemed too keen on slacking off on the work just yet. Alfred announced they best all get some food, and they arranged to head for the dining cabin in groups. Alfred himself went up to the helm to relieve the helmsman and let him go get some nutrition as well. The quartermaster took it upon himself to fetch food for Alfred, which Alfred ate whilst steering. And out of the corner of his eye, he could see the glass container, its midsection covered up with thick fabric and ropes. It did not cover the entire tank though; making the creature inside still partly visible. Alfred tried not to look at it, but even so, he was still very aware of the creature’s eyes no longer staring into the ocean, but instead never leaving him for a second. And Alfred got the odd, distant sensation that it was waiting. For something.

 

After everyone had had their fill, Alfred told the quartermaster to organise for the crew to get some rest throughout the day, granting each of the men a three hours rest divided in two groups.

 

Only when this was all taken care of and done, his crew looking better than that morning, and with the sun having long since passed midday, Alfred called them together in the dining cabin. He would have ordinarily done this outside on deck, however, he did not want to have the sea creature listening in on the matter he was about to discuss with them.

 

Alfred looked out across his assembled crew. Gervase, as well as the injured man, Adrian, were also present. The physician was keeping a wake eye at the latter, who looked a little hazy and wobbly in his seat, but otherwise all right –everything taken into consideration. Only the quartermaster was missing: the man was left up on deck to steer the ship. Alfred had protested, but the quartermaster had just smiled and said that no matter what he and the rest of the crew decided and what Alfred had to tell them, he was with Alfred. And Alfred thanked him, truly, from the bottom of his heart for his loyalty. But the quartermaster’s kind words did not lighten his troubled heart the slightest.

 

“All right,” Alfred leaned his hands on the table in front of him. He was granted immediate attention. “I hope you are all feeling well,” he began, receiving dutiful nods and smiles from the crowd, though none of them spoke so as not to distract him from his oncoming speech. “With tonight’s work and the winds we are now experiencing, we will reach Plymouth by midday tomorrow. Our original plan, well,” and Alfred hesitated. A few glances between the men were exchanged. Alfred sighed, and dropped some of his uptight-strong-navy-captain act. “ _My_ original plan,” he then continued. For that was really what it had been. And as captain, he had every right to make decisions, of course, but Alfred was normally no big supporter of such rule within a crew. The blame was his alone. “Was that we made it to Plymouth, got what we needed of rations and a new tank for our,” again, there was a slight hesitation. “ _Cargo,_ and sailed back home to Port Royal, delivering both the prisoner and the cargo to the government.”

 

None had made any gestures of opposing him yet. Alfred inhaled deeply, looking out across his men. To him, they were the best crew a navy captain could ever hope to be equipped with.

 

“However,” he said, exhaling heavily. “We all saw and know what happened tonight.” Alfred tightened his right hand subconsciously. “And if that was not alarming enough, there is something else that has me doubting if we should continue like this. You see, the one who made the hole in that glass container in the first place,” his eyes locked with Adrian, before moving to the helmsman and navigator. He owed it to his crew to tell them. “Was me.”

 

They reacted like he had expected. Disbelief, confused murmuring between themselves, denying statements and then silence when Alfred lifted his right hand. He then proceeded to tell them of how he had tried to speak with the creature, receiving nothing, and the dream that followed, which had clearly not been a dream at all.

 

“This _creature_ has the power to temper with our minds and actions,” Alfred’s face was tucked in a deep, serious frown. “Even if we have it out on deck for everyone to keep an eye on, I do not have the self-confidence I can keep you all safe from its power.” A few mouths opened to protest, but Alfred stopped them with a smile. “It is my responsibility as a captain, to ensure your safety. And the fact that I made the hole in the container without even being aware of what I was doing, worries me the most. I therefore propose we throw this creature back to the ocean and prey its kind’s possible anger will be soothed with that.”

 

The silence that followed was a long one. The men looked at each other, not entirely sure what to believe with their captain standing in such a manner before them. Gradually murmurs broke out between them again, which then escalated to loud talking and discussion. At first, the opinions were divided, but as their voices grew, they egged each other on. 

 

“I agree,” one said. “It is a danger to us all to have that _thing_ on board.”

 

“We should cast it back to whence it came!”

 

“ _Hear, hear_!” 

 

“It was a bad idea to begin with.”

 

Alfred remained silent the entire time, allowing his crew to speak their minds and nod determinedly with each other. He looked at his fingers pressing down into the wooden table in front of him. They were right, it would be best to get rid of the creature. Yet he could not help but imagine what possibilities would be open for them if they managed to return back home with it. They would be able to learn things about these beings that none had before them, maybe even ways to protect sailors from their doom at such creatures hands.

 

Meanwhile, the crew had started talking of how and where to drop the thing; whether they should wait until they got closer to land, or if these things also lived out here in the more open sea. When they asked Alfred what he thought, he had to admit that that was something he had not thought about and didn’t know. Someone suggested they could ask the bar keeper down in the brig, but someone else protested, saying it would be a bad idea to bring any more attention to the prisoner than highly necessary.

 

Then, as they seemed to reach the peak of their discussion, the sound of a glass shattering interrupted, making them all abruptly fall quiet in surprise at the noise. When they turned around to find the source of the disturbance, they saw Gervase about to pick up the pieces of a glass the injured Adrian evidently dropped in a moment of drowsy clumsiness. Adrian coughed at all the attention, but right before everyone turned back to their earlier discussions, he spoke:

 

“I think you are all letting your feelings run away with you in the heat of the moment. I think,” and he stopped, frowning as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “I agree that yes, it is dangerous. –Obviously,” he grinned lopsidedly, drawing a few awkward laughs here and there. “But I also think this is an opportunity beyond what we could’ve ever hoped for. Just think of what we could do with one of the merfolk in our custody. And think of what the government and people will say when we return home with such a creature.” His grin widened. Then it fell, and he sighed heavily. “But all joking aside, everyone, we have had the honour of sailing under the command of Alfred F. Jones for three years now. And I have yet to experience him letting us down, or exposing us for unnecessary danger. I have also yet to experience him failing our government in a mission. We are all capable men, sailors and soldiers. We are men of the navy, and we currently have the rarest booty in our custody ever to be brought back from a mission. No one’s even dead yet, and here we are already thinking of abandoning it.”

 

Askew nodding heads and blended murmur billowed through the crew, though Gervase sighed and handed Adrian a new glass of water. “I cannot raise people from the dead. This may well be the rarest booty, but it is the most dangerous as well.” A slight pause followed. The crew mulled this over in their minds. However, the feelings that had raged and spirited them a few minutes before had now settled. They spoke in a more level-headed demeanour this time. And it took them twelve minutes and a half to come to an agreement, turn to Alfred and pledge their loyalty to him and the mission in an air of sudden solemnness. 

 

It was with a strange breath of relief he hadn’t even known he was holding that Alfred returned on deck and up on the helm. The quartermaster turned to look at him when he came, a smile lighting up on his face when he saw his captain not buried under a worried expression.

 

“How did it go?”

 

Alfred smiled back. “Toris, I-“

 

“How did it go, Captain?” the quartermaster repeated, a gentle expression of his face. Alfred laughed a little. Right. They were still at work.

 

“Well, Laurinaitis,” he said, turning to look out across the growingly swarming deck. His face fell thoughtful, and slowly he told his quartermaster of what had happened. The man didn’t interrupt him, silently steering the ship until Alfred was done. But even then he did still not say anything. It was not necessary. The two of them had worked tightly together for several years, and with a nod the quartermaster left the helm to Alfred and retreated to the lower deck.

 

They worked in a steady tempo, the good wind remaining with them for the rest of the day. And when the crew finally began signing off for a good and proper night’s sleep, Alfred could see their optimism. Tomorrow they would reach Plymouth, and somehow that had become a strong light at the end of the tunnel.

 

After a few hours, Alfred was relieved of his position by the rough and silent helmsman, and resigned to his cabin. However, he could not sleep. Alfred twisted and turned in his grand bed, its sheer size and covers a sign of how far he had come since he started out a small cadet. But even for the softness of his bedding, the rocking of the ship and silent calm engulfing it, he could not seem to ease himself to sleep. He remained looking at the ceiling or wall of his cabin, depending on whether he had turned onto his side or back.

 

The former night’s events were probably a good explanation for his mind’s restlessness, but even though he made himself aware of this, he could barely close an eye. So he didn’t. He followed the rear lantern lights’ soft movements, listening to the creaking of wood. When he heard the sounds signalizing the second shift of that night had been carried out however, he finally decided this did him no good. Swinging his feet out of bed and down onto the floor, he stood, walking out on deck.

 

Millions of stars met him from a clear sky. It was like a vast, black ocean overhead, lit up by the reflection of countless lanterns. The winds had quieted, only a cool breeze remaining to tickle their clothes and make Alfred’s bare feet feel slightly cold. He turned a little, looking up to nod in a silent greeting to the helmsman who returned the gesture. Then he walked quietly once around the deck. He followed the railing, alternating between looking at the black waves beneath and the black vastness above. And eventually, this slow walk, ended in front of a half covered glass tank. Alfred told himself that was purely coincidental. Though, in the back of his mind, he had been aware of the green eyes following his every move since he first closed the cabin door behind him.  

 

The sea creature leered up at him. Interesting how its more or less expressionlessness had ebbed away after attacking a man.

 

“Now what are you scheming?” Alfred asked, looking long and hard at the creature. Well, as hard as he could, what he was staring at taken into consideration, that was. The creature idly waved the translucent fin of its tale.

 

Alfred frowned a little. “I know you can talk, and I know you can understand me,” he said. A small smile stretched the creature’s lips. Then they parted and moved. They formed words, but Alfred could not hear them. He could barely hear a low, muffled mumble past the glass and thick fabrics.

 

This must have shown on his face, for the creature shifted, coming closer to the glass. It looked up at Alfred, then at the fabric and rope sealing off its tank. It raised a hand to gently touch it, before pressing against it; movement Alfred could see as slight bumps from the outside. Then the green eyes returned to him. Alfred lifted his brows a split second, but then he laughed.

 

“Oh no,” he squatted down to come at eye level with the creature. His laugh was only a short one, a smile lingering for a brief moment longer before dying away as well. “You won’t make me do it twice. We will give you food,” he tugged a little at the fabric, slightly straightening it out. “I don’t want to see you die aboard my vessel. However, I will not see you attack any more of my men. Their life will come before yours no matter what happens.”

 

The creature locked eyes with him. And for a split second Alfred had at the tip of his tongue to say sorry and take back his words.

 

Then the creature slouched back, Alfred frowning at himself before standing, and with a “good night”, went back to his cabin, the creature’s eyes following him dully.

* * *

 

“Captain!”

* * *

 

**AN: I'm gonna list Alfred's crew here. :D I didn't introduce them in the first two chapter because I wanted a sort of anonymus feel, but now it's time. :3 Alfred's crew consists of the different states and capitals of America. I thought about having different nations first, but that would just be too messy I think. But I didn't want just Alfred and Arthur to be the only proper Hetalia characters at the beginning, so Toris is in Alfred's crew, as you all saw. So without further ado, here they are:**

**Quartermaster - Lithuania - Toris Lorinaitis**

**Helmsman – Alaska - Eska**

**Navigator – Rhode Island - James**

**Weaponsmaster – Texas - Andrew**

**Physician – North Dakota –Gervase**

**Boatswain - Ohio - Michael**

**Look-out – Oregon - Aaron**

**Carpenter 1 – Wyoming - Daniel**

**Carpenter 2 - Nebraska - Charles**

**Carpenter 3 - Missouri - Mark**

**(the rest of the crew: other states and capitals. Alfred's crew consists of 60 or 70 men or something. I don't know how big a crew of that time was, so if you do, please tell me.)**


End file.
